


Thresholds

by AceyEnn



Series: Thresholds [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bittersweet, Brother-Sister Relationships, Cancer, Death, F/M, Family, Ghosts, Grieving, Hospitals, Humanstuck, Multi, Sister-Sister Relationship, Yes this is the fic I've been working on forever and it's still not done shhhhhh, terminal illness, the underage is between two 17-year-olds and is not gonna be very detailed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceyEnn/pseuds/AceyEnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: The Fic I'm Spending Way Too Long On.</p><p>Aradia knows she's going to die, but that doesn't mean she's ready to leave everyone she loves behind. Good thing she and her boyfriend can see ghosts, huh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is! You've probably heard me rambling about this fucking fic for YEARS now (yes, literally years), and while it's still not even CLOSE to done, I figured I might as well start publishing what I have.
> 
> Before anyone points anything out: there are gonna be medical inaccuracies in here. I've definitely done a fair bit of research, but sometimes you've gotta just disregard reality a bit for the sake of the story, y'know? And I'm not a doctor or anything remotely similar. So yeah, this will not be entirely accurate. Hopefully it'll be decent otherwise. :P
> 
> Special thanks to Ceci (veto-power-over-clocks on Tumblr) for being my awesome beta, Maddi (clownpieced on Tumblr) for helping me brainstorm when I was just starting this fic, and everyone I've shown this thing to over the years for enabling me. <3 Y'all are the best, okay.

"Miss Megido, this is Prospect General Hospital..."  


Damara sighed loudly. "If you're looking for donations," she spat, "I don't exactly have the money for that, so fuck off."  


"What? It's not that. It's your...charge, I suppose you'd say. You're Aradia Megido's legal guardian, correct?"  


"I'm her sister, and yeah. Look, can we get this over with? I'm supposed to be getting back to my shift."  


"We need you to come here as quickly as possible, ma'am. There's been an emergency."  


"...Ugh. Fine, I'll tell my supervisor that shit's going down or whatever. And don't fucking 'ma'am' me, asshole." Damara hit the "end call" button on her cell phone and shoved it back into the pocket of her jeans.

 

As she walked back into the small, scuzzy diner where she worked, Damara wondered what exactly could've happened. A freak accident seemed most likely, but wasn’t she supposed to be in class? She would’ve heard if something like a bombing or a shooting had occurred, and while it was uncomfortably warm out, the local high school had air conditioning, so the chances of heat stroke were slim. Damara supposed it was possible she’d fallen ill, but aside from a headache, Aradia had seemed totally fine that morning.

 

Damara did wonder about the headache, though. Aradia had been getting a lot of those lately, sometimes bad enough that she’d puke. And she’d been running tired lately, too…shit, now Damara was _really_ worried. She stared at her shoes as she headed towards the back of the restaurant, biting at the skin around her nails--a nervous habit she’d never been able to break.   


"Damara, what were you even doing outside?"

 

Damara looked up at her coworker--Cronus Ampora, her long-time acquaintance and, more often than not, the bane of her existence. They'd gone to high school together, and they hung out sometimes, and okay, yeah, they fucked pretty often, but she sure as hell didn't _like_ him. She didn't like most people, really, but Cronus was pretty high on her shit list.   


"Did you not hear my phone ring,” she started, after regaining her composure a bit, “or are you preparing some new dumbass pick-up line for me? Not that me doing anything during my shift is your business. Last I checked, we are exact equals on the corporate ladder, insofar as this place has one of those."  


"Ugh, _whatever_ , Damz. Seems like _somebody's_ on the rag, eh?"   


Damara smiled as sweetly as possible. "You like having a cock, right? Because let this be your warning that if you ever say anything along those lines to me again, I will not hesitate to chop it off with a cleaver and let you bleed to death. And then I’ll mummify it and turn it into a dildo, because I’d just assume not let a perfectly good penis go to waste."

 

Cronus let out a slight squeak, clearly uncomfortable. Damara just nodded in satisfaction--she’d made her point, it seemed. “Now,” she continued, “go tell Slick that I have to leave. Like, this instant. Got it?”

 

"It's because of me, isn't it?"  


She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Cronus. As usual, everything is about you, you narcissistic fuckwit. Anyway, I’m leaving now. _Bye.”_

 

Damara walked back to the door, opening it with a flourish, and headed to her beat-up old car, ready to go see just what was going on.

 

* * *

 

Aradia awoke in a bed situated in the most uncomfortably sterile room she'd ever been in. All white and pale green, meticulously polished to a disturbing shine. She tried to lift her head and look around a bit more, but found herself far too exhausted to do so. She was so tired--why was she so _tired_?   


The only sounds were a steady beeping and her own breathing.

 

And then, no more than ten minutes later, footsteps.  


She was faintly surprised to recognize the man who entered the room--a man in a baseball cap and pointy shades, which contrasted rather oddly with his scrubs. “Mr. Strider?” she asked. “I didn’t know you worked here.”  


“So Dave never mentioned I was a doctor, did he?”

 

Aradia shook her head. “He said you ran a puppet porn site and moonlighted as a rapping ventriloquist.”

 

“Not shocking. Kid’s always been the kind to make up crazy shit like that, though I will admit that’s even more fucked up than I would’ve expected. I’m gonna have to have a talk with him ‘bout that.”

 

He looked Aradia in the eye, and she gestured to him to get on with it. “Not important right now, though. What matters is what happened. Do you remember anything?”

 

“Well...I was in English class. I’d just finished the final, so I had permission to leave the classroom early. And I had just gotten up to leave the classroom, and I grabbed my backpack, and then my head started hurting really bad, and...um. That’s it, actually. What _did_ happen?”

 

“Seizure,” Mr.--or, Aradia supposed, _Dr._ \--Strider explained. “You fell, you started jerking and twitching, teacher called 911, you ended up here, and then you woke up. Not before spending a good hour or so out cold, but there you go.”

 

“...But I’ve never had a seizure in my life.”

 

“I know. We looked through your medical history, we asked your sister, and there’s nothing in your history that would’ve led to something like that.”

 

“So why the hell did I just start convulsing?"  


“That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?”  


She rolled her eyes. “Yes. It’s a question I’d like _answered_ , if at all possible.”

 

“You’re not gonna like the answer.”

 

Aradia froze--not that she’d been moving much in the first place. “Wh...what do you mean by that, precisely?”

 

“Look, kid. This is not going to be easy to talk about. Not for either of us--I mean, shit, you and Dave have been tight for as long as I can remember--but especially not you. Do you want your sister in here? Someone you know better than your friend’s dad?”

 

Aradia nodded. “Yeah, that'd probably be best.”  


“Alright.”  


And when Damara came in, frazzled and tired, the news was dropped like a bombshell.

 

There was... _something_ growing in Aradia's brain. They'd have to do a biopsy to see what it actually was, but it didn't look good.

 

“Even if it's benign," Dr. Strider explained, "you never want shit growin' there. And obviously, brain surgery ain't child's play. For the biopsy we'll just be making a small incision and removing a small sample of the tumor--"  


“So it's cancer," Damara interjected.  


"Could be. Not all tumors are cancerous, and this might not even be a tumor--though given what we know so far, that's the most likely option." He shrugged, almost nonchalantly. "So Aradia, we're gonna have to shave a section of your head for this. Would you prefer we go ahead and shave the whole thing?"  


Aradia grimaced. "Is it possible to just not shave it at all? I really love my hair...but I also don't want this big bald spot, you know?"  


“Aradia," Damara hissed, "let him do his fucking job."

 

"I was only asking a question!"

 

"Ladies, calm your collective tits. Yes, we're gonna have to shave it. Ain't nothin' I can do about that. Kinda hard to cut into ya otherwise."  


“I haven't cut it since I was seven."

 

He sighed. "I know it sucks, believe me, but shit happens."

 

"Gah, fine. Whole head it is, I don't want to be the only seventeen-year-old girl in the world with a combover. Not sure I could pull it off."

 

"Fine by me. We can schedule the surgery for tomorrow, and then we'll have to keep you here for observation for a bit, and then hopefully you won't be coming back to this place for a long, long time. Sound good?" He gave a slight grin.

 

"As good as it could be under circumstances of this sort, I guess."

 

"A'ight, kiddo. We can do i--"  


“Wait," she interrupted. "I'd like to call my boyfriend, if that's okay. I'd just like him here for the whole shaving thing."

 

"We don't allow cell phone use in this wing. Fucks with the radiology stuff, they say."

 

"So this task falls upon me, I'm guessing," Damara grumbled.

 

"Dammit, Damara, stop being such a jerk about this!" Aradia groaned. "He's not as awful as you're convinced he is!"

 

"I know asshole boys when I see 'em, kid."

 

"You're sorta-dating _Cronus._ How is Sollux worse than him?"

 

"Just shut up, I'll call the bastard, God. And for the record, Aradia, there is a difference between fucking someone and actually dating them.” Damara stood and walked out the door, glancing back at her sister once more before running outside. She needed a smoke anyway. By _God_ , did she need a fucking smoke.

 

* * *

 

 

"Sollux Captor, get your pasty, scrawny ass over here right now."  


Sollux heaved a massive sigh. "Damara, why the fuck are _you_ calling me?"   


"Aradia's in the hospital, she has to get her head shaved, and she wants you there. Good enough reason for you?"

 

He was, briefly, speechless. "Wait, why is she in the hospital?"  


"I'll explain when you get there, okay? Just hurry it up."

 

"Fine. Bye." There was a beep as he hung up, stuffing his phone into his jeans pocket.  


He grabbed his bike helmet and left his suburban home, grabbing his shitty bike on the way out, a bike that, realistically, should've been thrown out years ago. It wasn't even fit for donation, really; the frame was rusty, the wheels worn. It wasn't an ideal mode of transportation, not even close, but he didn't feel like asking his parents for the car--that would no doubt take forever, and time was, he presumed, not exactly on his side here.  


The trip was mercifully short, at least, and as soon as he made it to the front of the building, he saw her--Damara Megido, thorn in his side and reluctant legal guardian of his girlfriend, smoking a cigarette and glaring at the bright blue sky as if it had personally offended her somehow. And, after a moment, glaring at _him_ in precisely the same manner.

 

"A bicycle? Seriously?"

 

"Fuck you."

 

"It's not even much of a bike. It's more like a pile of scrap metal in the vague shape of a bike. How the hell can you ride it without it collapsing under your weight? Yeah, sure, you're scrawny as shit, but--"  


"Fuck. You. Just tell me what's going on.”

 

Damara rolled her eyes. "She's getting her head shaved for a biopsy, happy?"

 

"Wow, seriously, I'm not sure what part of 'fuck you' you don't understand, but _fuck you_. That's not really much of an answer at all. A biopsy? What the fuck?"

 

Damara looked down, seemingly very interested in her shoes--plain black chucks, nothing to get excited about--and started talking, quiet and fast.  


"There's something in her brain and we don't know what it is and they're taking a chunk out of whatever it is to see how terrible it is. Happy _now_ , dickhead?"   


He stood silent, before simply uttering, "Shit."  


She just nodded. "Yeah. Shit."  


"So uh. Let's go in."  


"Yeah."  


They spent the rest of the seemingly endless walk to Aradia's room in numb, tense silence, punctuated only by the soft padding of sneakers against linoleum.

 

* * *

 

Aradia perked up the instant they walked through the door. "Hey, you came!" she said with a smile.  


"Well, yeah, of course." Sollux looked her over, frowning. "Are you doing okay?" She simply shrugged, and he mentally kicked himself for asking such a stupid question. How could anyone be _okay_ in a situation like this?   


"Well then," Dr. Strider said, "you ready? We could get you a nice wig to cover shit up, would that make you feel any better?”

 

“Marginally.”  


She reached over and grabbed Sollux's hand. “Sorry about this,” she whispered. “I guess I've just gotten really attached to my hair. I mean, I haven't cut it since I was pretty little. It's _special._ ” She paused. “Is that weird?”   


“I'unno, maybe,” he replied. “But so are lots of things you do. And I like that about you. You're...well, you're _you._ And I'd be kinda upset if you changed. Not physically, I mean, wow, _fuck_ , I'm really bad at this, I'm the absolute wo--”   


“Shh.” She gave a wry smile. “You are _such_ a dork, Sollux. And I love it, so you can't change either, 'kay?”   


“So,” he said, smiling, “big dorks forever, then?”

 

Her own smile just widened. “Forever and always.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made a few minor edits to this chapter--namely changing the hospital name, since Prospit doesn't make much sense as a place name in the real world, and I've decided that Prospect would be a good name for the town the story's set in.
> 
> (Fun fact: it's also the name of the street I live on. TRY AND FIND ME MOTHERFUCKERS! (okay actually don't but y'know))


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things keep happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many thanks to veto-power-over-clocks for her awesome beta work! :)

“They're gonna try to remove some of the tumor. Or, you know, whatever it is.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Yeah. Apparently they don't normally do biopsies for brain stuff, since it's fairly risky, so it's more or less an excuse to get rid of as much of it as possible.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Aradia looked up from her video game. “Damara, you've been even more terse than usual. Is something wrong?”

 

“No, of course not. It's not like I'm worried about you undergoing fucking brain surgery tomorrow, or about the possibility of you having cancer, or anything like that. It's just me being a bitch like always.”

 

Aradia's gaze drifted over to her sister, sitting there at her bedside. Damara's eyes were fixed on her lap; her fingernails dug into the skin above her knees, just past the hem of her skirt. Even if Damara's words hadn't been dripping with sarcasm, it would've been incredibly clear to anyone that something was, in fact, wrong. Very, very wrong.

 

She looked almost as if she was bracing for impact. Maybe, in a way, she was.

 

Aradia couldn't help but chuckle regardless. “What, do you care about me or something?”

 

“Yes.” Damara briefly glanced up at her sister. “Was that ever in question?”

 

Aradia bit her lip, not expecting that level of candidness. “Uh.”

 

 _Yes, it always has been,_ she thought, _because you've been a total ice queen my whole life and you somehow managed to become even more of one when Mom and Dad died, and it's hard to tell if you care about much of anything._

 

“...No,” she finished.

 

Damara said nothing, and went back to staring at her lap. The two sat in silence for a long, awkward moment, neither of them sure what to say.

 

What _was_ there to say?

 

* * *

 

 

Sollux, like most people, wasn't a fan of hospital waiting rooms. It didn't help that one of his earliest memories was sitting in one with his family after his dad's accident.

 

Car crash—almost a cliché, really, but no less frightening for it, especially when you're four years old and barely able to understand the gravity of the situation. When you're too young to really grasp what it means when you learn that your father suffered a traumatic brain injury and had only the slimmest chance of a true recovery.

 

(The good news was that he'd recovered considerably better than anyone could have hoped. The bad news was that it had still changed him, and that Sollux only had the faintest recollection of what he'd been like before. It wasn't the last trauma that would befall his family, but it remained one of the worst.)

 

Regardless, he wasn't about to just leave. He really, really wanted to, but he refused. “Not until after the anesthesia wears off,” he'd told his mom.

 

Damara lay draped over a small armchair on the other side of the room, asleep. From what Aradia had said, she'd barely slept a wink since her sister had been admitted, and Sollux wasn't sure whether Aradia would be happy with her for getting some shut-eye or upset that she'd all but collapsed from exhaustion.

 

Probably both, he decided.

 

He looked at his phone—it had been nearly five hours since they'd wheeled Aradia off for surgery. According to what he'd read, such operations usually took about that long. _Soon,_ he thought. _Soon she'll be out and then she'll wake up and be super tired for a while but she'll be fine._

 

 _She'll be fine._ It became a mantra of sorts, calming his strained nerves just a bit. _She'll be fine, and everything will be back to normal soon._

 

* * *

 

Aradia hadn't felt this exhausted since she'd been brought in. In fact, she couldn't remember having been this exhausted ever, period.

 

At least she was awake, or pretty sure she was, anyway.

 

“Hey, AA.”

 

Okay, that was definitely Sollux. She was definitely awake, and definitely alive.

 

“Hey,” she slurred hazily, smiling a little.

 

Things would be fine. They had to be. She'd get through this, they all would.

 

She believed it, really. But if she had been lucid enough to sense the tension in the room, she might've had her doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's play "spot the shitty steven universe ref!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my lovely beta Ceci (veto-power-over-clocks)!
> 
> Fun fact: This chapter was actually written and beta'd well before chapter 2. It was initially intended as the second chapter, in fact, but I felt that it jumped around a bit without something in between to bridge the two, so it got pushed back a bit. I made a few little changes to keep things consistent, but yeah.
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who's left comments and kudos on this fic! Love you guys! <3

Days passed.

 

They passed slowly, excruciatingly so. It felt like months to Aradia, who was itching to get out of the hospital--it was so _boring_ , and so unnervingly sterile and clean. She wanted nothing more than to go home to her messy room, to have her books and her video games and her shitty laptop. This? This was hell.

 

And she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be stuck in there. She’d had another seizure a few days after the surgery, shortly before she was to be discharged, so they’d decided to keep her under observation even longer while they tried her on different anticonvulsants. Aradia understood their reasoning--how could she not?--but that certainly didn’t mean she had to _like_ it.

 

At least most of the time there was someone there to talk to. Sollux, of course, was done with finals himself and thus had plenty of time to hang out with her, and Damara tried to spend as much of her (far less ample) free time at the hospital as she could.

 

She'd been so solicitous lately (albeit still stone-faced and harsh; some things never changed), and even after their discussion before the surgery, even after Damara had admitted that she did care...it wasn't something Aradia was used to. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but it felt _strange_ , and not in an entirely good way. It was a reminder that things were different now.

 

Aradia really, really didn't want to believe that things were actually any different.

 

It was 8 PM. Damara would probably be getting home soon; she’d probably be at the hospital by 9. And granted, Aradia would probably be exhausted by then--she’d been exhausted in general, even moreso than expected--but she figured she could stay up that long.

 

She was wrong. She was sound asleep by 8:30.

 

* * *

 

“Aradia?”

 

Aradia grumbled, turning over in bed. “Aradia’s not here right now, please leave a message,” she muttered.

 

Damara rolled her eyes. “Wake the fuck up, kid. I didn’t get to actually _talk_ last night because, surprise surprise, you were asleep far earlier than is even _remotely_ reasonable, and today’s my day off anyway, so stop dozing.”

 

“Do I have to?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Aradia reluctantly sat up, not without a bit of difficulty, and turned towards her sister. “Happy now?”

 

“It’ll do.”

 

“Good. So how was work yesterday, then? Got any horror stories to tell me?”

 

“An infinite number, as usual. Most of them involved a drunken hooker who stumbled into the diner around noon and wouldn’t leave for several hours, but let’s be real here, that kinda shit is a daily fucking occurrence.” She smiled a bit. “I’d say I wouldn’t wish a job at Spade Diner on my worst enemy, but I’d be lying if I said that. Give that cunt a taste of humble pie for once. And a taste of not being a millionaire heiress to a global corporation. Seriously, what the fuck was someone as rich as _her_ doing at public school?”

 

Aradia facepalmed. “Oh my God, you’re talking about Meenah again? Give it a rest, Damara! You haven’t had to deal with her since you graduated, it’s all in the past!”

 

“So I’m supposed to magically forget the systematic emotional torment I underwent at the hands of Meenah _motherfucking_ Peixes--”

 

“That’s not what I said, I just said you need to dwell on it less. Now tell me more about the drunken hooker, that was actually starting to sound kinda funny.”

 

“I’m pretty sure Cronus hired her.”

 

Aradia raised an eyebrow. “He’s not qualified to hire anyone, he’s not the manager or whatever…”

 

Damara patted her sister on the shoulder. “You really are so naive. It’s adorable.”

 

“Ohh, so you mean he--”

 

“Yup. Can't wait to see the sores on his dick next time he wants to fuck. Nothing hotter than syphilis.”

 

“That’s an incredibly weird thing to say. You’re weird, Damara.”

 

“Says the girl who collects animal bones and is almost certainly gonna get knocked up by Sollux Captor someday. Assuming she hasn’t alrea--”

 

“Oh my God, shut _up_!”

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting this wonderful display of family bonding,” Dr. Strider interrupted as he opened the door.

 

“You are,” Damara noted.

 

Aradia laughed. “I’m not sure that’s necessarily the worst thing you could do right now, though.”

 

“Good, ‘cause I’m about to do something way worse.” It was an attempt at levity, Aradia could tell that, but it fell flat. She had an idea of what he was here for now, and she didn’t like it one bit.

 

Dr. Strider closed the door behind him, and leaned back against the wall. “Now, before I go any further, you should know that neither of you are gonna like any of what I have to say. I’m droppin’ some pretty heavy shit here, and I’m sorry for that, but it won’t help either of you to just not know.”

 

Aradia’s stomach sank. She looked over at Damara, whose hands were clenched tightly into fists, white-knuckled. She could tell she was trying to keep her composure, and she could tell she was failing.

 

“I think,” Aradia said, “that I know where this is going.”

 

“Not quite. It’d be one thing for it to _just_ be cancer. And...yeah, that’s what it is, so let’s get that out of the way.”

 

Aradia nodded solemnly. Damara just stared, mouth agape, nails digging into her palms.

 

“The thing is,” he continued, “it’s incredibly aggressive. We removed what we could, but it’s invading some pretty fucking critical parts of your brain, parts that we can’t just go cutting into without quite probably killing you, or at least messing you up something fierce for the rest of your life. We can give you radiation therapy and chemo, try and buy you a bit of time, but--”

 

“I’m gonna die,” Aradia interrupted.

 

“...That’s the most probable outcome, yeah. Sorry, kid, but the survival rate for this kind of tumor is incredibly low. And that sucks all kinds of dick, and you’re acutely aware of that, I know. We can try and keep you comfortable--”

 

“How long would you say I have?”

 

“Hard to know for sure."

 

"General estimate, then."

 

"I’d say 'round six months if you’re real lucky. Barring some sort of miracle, anyway.”

 

“So you’re not even going to _try_ to save her?” Damara spat. “You’re a _doctor_ , you’re supposed to be able to fix shit like this!”

 

“Damara--”

 

“Shut _up_ , Aradia! Look, I’m not letting you just let her die, for fuck’s sake…you _can’t_ do that. Doesn’t that go against pretty much everything doctors stand for?”

 

“Calm down, miss. This may shock you, but we’re not actually miracle workers. We do what we can, and in this case, there’s very little we can do. And I ain’t happy about it either--fuck, if it were one of my kids I’d be just as angry as you are. I don’t blame you for being upset, but I’d rather you not take it out on me. I’m just the messenger, and it’s a shitty message, but I ain’t the one who wrote it, y’know?”

 

“Leave,” Damara ordered, voice breaking. “Just leave.”

 

Dr. Strider nodded. “Will do. Best to give y’all some time to process this. And Aradia, I can tell Dave and the rest if you’d like.”

 

“That’d be nice. Thanks, Dr. Strider. And...I’m sorry about my sister.”

 

“Don’t sweat it.” He paused. "You actually should know the oncologist we placed you with. My sister's one of the best around, and I think you're gonna like your nurse, too. We'll try to make this as not-terrible as possible.”

 

“Okay, cool,” Aradia replied listlessly. The truth was, she saw nothing cool about it. She liked Dr. Lalonde fine, at least from the few times she'd met her, but this wasn't the kind of situation where she could bring herself to be terribly excited about seeing her.

 

_I_ _a_ _m going to die,_ Aradia thought. _I will probably never see my eighteenth birthday. I will never finish high school or go to college or get married or become an archeologist._

 

_I don’t want to die. Not yet._

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is short sorry

“So when are you gonna be discharged, anyway?”

 

Aradia shrugged, poking at her lunch--hospital food was the worst, but Sollux had managed to smuggle in a couple of cheeseburgers and an order of chicken nuggets. McDonald’s wasn’t exactly Aradia’s idea of fine dining either, of course, but it beat the slop they served in the hospital cafeteria any day, and besides, it was a thoughtful gesture.

 

And yet she couldn’t bring herself to eat it. She’d opted to start chemotherapy, just to extend her life a bit, and it left her feeling terribly nauseated most of the time. It was to be expected, but it still wasn’t pleasant.

 

“I’m not actually sure,” she finally replied. “I dunno if I _will_ be.”

 

Sollux cringed visibly at that. “So you’re spending the rest of your life in this miserable dump? Christ, AA, that’s...that’s just depressing.”

 

“Cancer tends to be pretty depressing in general. It’s the nature of the beast, so to speak.” She shot Sollux a surprisingly cheerful smile. “And at least I won’t have to stay here after I die!”

 

“...That reminds me. Remember that promise you made me a few years back, when we first got together?”

 

“Which one? I make a lot of promises!”

 

“The one about, uh, sticking around.”

 

“...Now that you mention it, I did say that, didn’t I?”

 

“I’m not gonna force you to stay, AA. If you’d rather just go straight to the afterlife I won’t be pissed. Not _that_ pissed, anyway. Maybe mildly irritated at the most. But it’s your choice. I mean it.”

 

“Sollux...what use is us being able to see ghosts if we can’t stick together? I told you I’d stay with you if I died first, and I meant it. I still mean it.” She laughed. “Lord knows you need the company, you nerd.” She flicked his nose with her finger, eliciting a snort.

 

“You’re one to talk about nerdiness, Miss I-Have-A-Poster-Of-Indiana-Jones-That-I-Kiss-Every-Night.”

 

“Hey, I haven’t done that since freshman year and you know it!”

 

“Don’t lie, I’ve _seen_ the lipstick marks.”

 

“Those are ancient! And besides, it’s not like you’ve never done anything similar, dork.”

 

Aradia broke down laughing, and it proved contagious, as Sollux quickly joined in.

 

Finally, Aradia said, “This is nice, you know.”

 

“Eh?”

 

“Just...nothing’s changing between us just because of the whole terminal illness thing. It’s nice, just being here with you and joking around like we always have.”

 

“Meh. You need some normalcy in your life. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t at least _try_ to make you happy while you’re going through all this bullshit?”

 

“The worst ever.”

 

“Exactly.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aradia and Dave hang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter mostly finished for a while (not SUPER long though), but my beta (Ceci/Tumblr user veto-power-over-clocks, who, as always, did an excellent job!) has been really busy with things that, obviously, took precedent over my fic. 
> 
> I should probably note that this is largely a filler chapter of sorts, just some character interaction stuff and INTRODUCING THE "NEW" CHARACTOR..........DAVE, but hopefully it's enjoyable nonetheless! Shit gets a bit more real in the next chapter, so PREPARE YOUR ASSES.
> 
> Finally, as a fair warning, there's some discussion of gross stuff in this chapter, so if you're easily squicked by unsanitary stuff and maggots and the like, you might wanna skip this one. Fortunately, I think it's mostly skippable if need be. :)
> 
> anyway here's chapter five

The visitors had started pouring in not long after Aradia was diagnosed.

 

A few of them were people she scarcely recognized, students at her school that had heard the news and decided to drop by. She was civil enough with most of them, but the fact that they’d only deigned to acknowledge her existence in any way when they learned she was dying annoyed her deeply. 

 

Frankly, she had been fine avoiding their attention during school. She’d kind of savored it, in fact. She’d  _ seen _ what had happened when kids got... _ noticed _ , and it was never good. She had her friends and her boyfriend, and that was enough for her.

 

But on the whole, they were nice enough. A bit twee, a bit overly optimistic, and definitely annoying, but they came and went quickly and seemed to at least have decent enough intentions. It could’ve been worse.

 

It could’ve been _ Vriska _ , for God’s sake.

 

Most of her visitors, however, were people she knew well. Sollux was the most frequent, of course, but all her friends tried to make it to the hospital as much as possible. One of those friends was Dave Strider.

 

“Jesus Christ, Aradia, you look like a goddamn corpse already.”

 

“Just wait until the maggots start nesting in my eye sockets, Dave.”

 

“There was this dude who had maggots in his brain. Like, his fucking head was full of maggots. That was so fucked up. It fucked me up, okay.”

 

“Okay, I’m calling BS on that one.”

 

“No, I’m serious. Look it up on Snopes. Or don’t, there are pictures and you’ve been throwing up enough  _ without _ having to see shit like that.”

 

Dave looked Aradia over. “Seriously, though, have you been eating alright?”

 

Aradia shook her head. “Nope. Not for lack of trying, but...nope. I can’t keep anything down.” And it showed. She’d lost a lot of weight already, her once-curvy body well on its way to becoming a mess of sharp angles and jutting bones. 

 

“That can’t be healthy.”

 

She blew a raspberry. “Yeah, being terminally ill is generally unhealthy. That’s kind of why it’s called  _ illness _ .”

 

“Fuck, Aradia, you know what I mean. But like. Relatively speaking, I guess?”

 

“Eh. Not really much we can do except pump me full of anti-nausea drugs.”

 

Dave cringed. “Just don’t puke all over me. Seriously.”

 

At that, Aradia couldn’t help but laugh. “No promises.” She leaned back against the headboard, arms folded behind her head. “But you’re my friend, and you’re actually making me feel a little less awful, so I’ll do my best to avoid you if I start throwing up all over the place.”

 

“You mean when, right?”

 

“Pretty much. We’ll just hope the next wave of nausea is nice enough to wait until you leave.”

 

“So I gotta ask. Is it worse than the stomach bug from hell?”

 

“The one that spread through the entire school back in seventh grade?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Yeah, it’s worse than that.”

 

“Yeesh. And here I’ve spent the past four years of my life thinking you could not possibly empty your stomach contents faster than I did that week.”

 

“Well, you learn something new every day, I guess.”

 

“Yeah. I am not entirely sure I  _ wanted _ to learn that, because Jesus tittyfucking Christ, that is pretty much the worst thing I can imagine.” He paused thoughtfully, adding, “I mean, that’s hyperbole, natch. I  _ could _ imagine worse. I just ain’t feelin’ it. It’d require actual thought, and right now I don’t feel like actually thinking about the various incredibly horrifying shit that can happen to people. Plus that’d just reek of that ‘other people have it worse’ bullshit, which is probably not what you want right now? Or ever, because it is, as I said, bullshit. It’s the kind of shit a bull with dysentery would produce. All watery and smelly and--”

 

“Dave, you can shut up now.”

 

Dave sighed melodramatically--a very affected sort of melodrama, of course. “And here I thought rambling would make you feel a little better.”

 

“It did until you started describing bull diarrhea.”

 

“Okay, I’ll write a note to myself.” He pulled his phone out, opening the memo app, and began typing, speaking as he wrote. “Do...not...bring...up...actual...literal...bullshit...around...Aradia. There. Now I’ll remember.”

 

“So I take it other people are fair game?”

 

“Hell yeah they are.”

 

“That’s terrible.”   
  


“Terrible things are what I’m best at, Megido. I mean, you’ve  _ read _ Sweet Bro And Hella Jeff, you know precisely what I’m capable of.”

 

“I still have the ‘trade paperback’ you made. The fact that you ran out of cyan midway through printing it really added to the effect, I must say.”

 

“Yeah, definitely. Someday that shit’s gonna be in the fucking Louvre, okay. I’m the most underappreciated artist of our generation, let’s be real here.”

 

Aradia snorted. “Obviously.”

 

“Damn right. I should probably get going now. Tonight, I go on a hot date with this beautiful wonan.”

 

“Isn’t it a bit egotistical to reference your own comic?”

 

Dave shrugged. “Probably. But my massive and completely justified ego aside, Jade is probably gonna be getting home from the robotics tournament real soon, and I’m not the type to keep a lady waiting. I’m so fucking chivalrous. Knight in armor so shiny you can see every pore in your face if you look into it. Man, I should  _ absolutely _ buy a suit of armor someday when I’m rich and famous. Or at least make a shitty cardboard one and stick it in the corner of my room. Yeah, definitely the second one. That’s  _ way _ funnier.”

 

“Alright! Have fun, I’ll seeya later.”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll probably be spending the next few weeks pulling dog fur out of my asshole, but whatever. I can take the occasional break from that to visit you.”

 

“Wow, Dave.  _ Wow. _ ”

 

“What can I say? The girl lives in a fucking mansion, and somehow there is not a single room in it that isn’t full of white fluff.”

 

“Well. Good luck with that, then.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The two fistbumped, and as Dave turned to head off, Aradia spoke once more.

 

“Thanks for coming,” she said, smiling.

 

“Dude, you’re one of my best friends, I’m not just gonna ignore you. I’m not quite a big enough dick for that.”

 

“You’re not really a dick at all.”

 

“Lies. Lies and slander. But thanks anyway.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

He left, and she lay back in her bed, quickly falling asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions are made, disapproved of, and reaffirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY SHIT'S GETTIN' REAL HERE. B)
> 
> As usual, major thanks to Ceci for beta-ing! (Especially for catching the bit where I derped and completely left a word out. WHOOPSIE DAISY.)

Damara had always hated morning shifts, especially on weekends. She hated getting up at the crack of dawn, how busy the diner got, everything. Nowadays, though, she’d come to at least  _ tolerate _ them, for the sole reason that they actually allowed her to see her sister.

 

Well, to see her while she wasn’t dozing off, anyway.

 

She got off around noon, and proceeded to nab some hashbrowns and bacon from the kitchen, placing them on a paper plate and wrapping them up to go. There. Lunch for both of them. It was kind of amazing how  _ easy _ it was to sneak food into the hospital, and just like Sollux, she took full advantage of that fact. She wouldn’t wish the slop they served the patients on her worst enemy.

 

(Okay, that was a lie. Damara had always been the type to hold grudges, and there were a fair few people she’d wish hospital food on. But most people...well, she liked to think she wasn’t quite a big enough bitch for that.)

 

She got to the hospital quickly enough, and made a beeline for Aradia’s room. Not like there was anything else of interest to her there, of course. Hospitals were dull and dismal places, and Damara had no desire--or need--to explore the place further.

 

She didn’t bother knocking. There was no need to, not anymore.

 

“Hey, Aradia.”

 

Aradia looked up from the book she was reading with a faint smile. “Oh, hey, Damara. Did you bring anything to eat?”

 

Damara rolled her eyes. “The plate’s right in my fucking hand, Aradia.”

 

“...So it is. Sorry, I guess I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve gotten really good at not paying attention to things lately,” she joked.

 

“You really have.” Damara shut the door and sat down, resting the plate on her lap. “You should really clean the bedside table off, by the way. There’s nowhere to set this.”

 

Aradia shrugged. “You could just set it on top of the books.”

 

“It'd fall.”

 

“Only if you jostled it a lot.”

 

“I'm not risking it. The cleaning people would be so pissed if we spilled shit everywhere.”

 

“Meh. Gimme some of that bacon.”

 

Damara looked down at the plate. Still completely wrapped in clingfilm--she felt rather foolish to have not unwrapped it immediately. She threw the clingfilm in the small trash can by Aradia’s bed.

 

It was overflowing; maybe, Damara thought, the cleaning people didn’t care much either way. She shrugged and set the plate atop the books.

 

“I forgot to bring forks, so you're gonna have to eat it with your fingers.”

 

“It's all good,” Aradia replied, picking up a piece of bacon and shoving it into her mouth. “Mmm.”

 

They ate largely in silence; it seemed to Damara that there just wasn't much to say. Aradia seemed in high spirits, and she looked to be having a relatively good day, cancer-wise. And she was actually  _ eating _ , which was something of a rarity these days.

 

When Aradia finished her lunch, she smiled right up at Damara—she'd always been shorter than her big sister, even with Damara sitting in a chair lower than Aradia's bed. An eight-inch height difference tends to do that, regardless of position.

 

Really, they only had a few features in common—black hair, light skin, similar facial features. But overall, they didn't look like half-sisters, in Aradia's opinion. Damara was tall, skinny, and green-eyed, with stick-straight hair and an angular face; Aradia had always been short and curvy, round-faced and brown-eyed and curly-haired. Most people wouldn't guess they were related at all, at least not closely.

 

(And that wasn't even getting into their personalities.)

 

“Something up?” Damara asked, smiling back.

 

“I've been talking to Dr. Lalonde and Nurse Roxy. Did you know Dr. Lalonde is her mom? It’s crazy.”

 

Damara let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, Aradia, that was kind of obvious. They look nigh identical.” She brightened again, adding, “Good news, I take it? You seem awfully perky.”

 

“Depends. What's your definition of 'good?'”

 

“Uh, you getting better?”

 

“Okay, then this won't count as good news in your eyes.” She looked down, still smiling, and took a deep breath. “I'm quitting chemo.”

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Damara’s hands flew up in the air, nearly knocking the stack of books over. “Aradia, what the fuck has you convinced that  _ that's _ a good idea?”

 

“Look, Damara. I've been talking it over with actual  _ professionals _ , and...it's not helping. The best that would happen if I kept it up is maybe an extra month, and it's just not worth it. It's not worth feeling like total crap constantly, or getting pumped with chemicals twice a week.” She looked back up at her sister. “This is my decision. I'm not budging on this.”

 

“ _ I _ can still disapprove.”

 

“But you can’t  _ do _ anything about it,” Aradia insisted. And much to Damara’s chagrin, she was right. Aradia had always been stubborn, and once she’d made up her mind on something, it was nigh impossible to convince her otherwise.

 

Aradia looked her sister in the eye, smiling. “I don’t want to die, but if I’m going to, I’d rather make the most of the time I  _ do  _ have than just languish in a hospital bed for months on end. You understand that, right?”

 

Damara sighed. “Yeah. I get it. And...I know you’re gonna try to hold on as long as you can. You kind of suck at giving up on things.”

 

That elicited a chuckle. “Never give up, never surrender.”

 

“...Is this really the right time for a fucking Galaxy Quest reference?”

 

“Like I said, I’m making the most of my time. If I’d rather joke around than be all mopey about things, so be it.” She looked down at her hands, which had grown pale and thin over the past month. “I’m not exactly made of time.”

 

All Damara could do was admit to herself that Aradia had an extremely good point.

 

\---

 

They discharged Aradia on a Saturday morning, a few days after she broke the news to her sister.

 

To her pleasure, very little had changed. Her room was the same as it had been the morning she’d left for school that last day, before...well. Before everything  _ else _ had changed. It was nice to have  _ something _ constant.

 

Aradia set the pills she’d been prescribed--painkillers, antiemetics, anticonvulsants--on her dresser, next to a plastic skull she’d picked up at the drug store a few Halloweens back. She laughed a bit at that; the juxtaposition was just too perfect. Morbid, but perfect.

 

She flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling she’d covered in glow-in-the-dark stars as a kid. Okay, it was her dad who’d put them up, but it had been her idea. She could claim that much.

 

Things were simpler then, even moreso than they had been just before she got sick. It was so much easier to have parents who were still flesh and blood.

 

Ghosts were tricky to explain, and even in those days right after they’d died, even as a ten-year-old kid, Aradia knew it was best not to tell her sister she still saw them.

 

Nearly seven years ago, her parents had gone out for a nice dinner, and the restaurant went up in flames. They weren’t the only casualties, and really, that was the hardest part for Aradia to swallow.

 

(When so many people die at once, no one remembers the names of those lost. One death, Aradia had learned, was a tragedy; twenty-three was just another news story.)

 

She turned over onto her side, looking back at her dresser. Those silly little stars were getting to her already.

 

“No point dwelling on the past,” Aradia mumbled to herself. “Gotta live in the present for as long as I can.”

 

And in that moment, she began to truly revise her plans for the future. She pulled the old sketchbook she’d stolen from Damara from beneath her bed, took a pen from her bedside table, and began to write.


End file.
